This is a song about "My homies art real"

Money aint my motive, my art isn't for a gallery

You just servin yourself, go pull up to pump three

My chemistry with my art is a wise chemist

Used to clean my rolie chain with alcohol in the sink

So i, i stack paper and keep it ghetto

Call all my closes homies dr though

Or knowing that my homies got my back

I don't know why i'm even on this track

Like the first nintendo, the blinking red light

This is for my homies in the pen, man i rhyme tight,

You sitting at the bar wearing barbaro's hair

Yo to all my homies in rappad, peace out there!

Now me and my homies got the keys to the nation

All the women of color i'm in love with your skin